Adjustment
by Flinch-Hayward
Summary: After so many unforgotten years, Stefan receives an unexpected visitor. Between Ike’s death and the hostilities of the colony themselves, will Stefan be able to help his old friend? Or is Soren just a lost cause? Implied Ike/Soren.
1. Chapter 1

Yes, I'm writing yet another FE fic. One day, my name shall be famous throughout the fandom. As ever, there is a hint of Ike/Soren in this fic. You don't like it, don't read it. I haven't gotten any flames yet, and I don't intend to start now. There may also be some Stefan/Soren, though most likely only hinted, and most likely only one-sided. I don't own Stefan or Ike or Soren, or Fire Emblem in general. Yet. Kaz is my own character, but he's Branded, and so technically Intelligent Systems and Nintendo own the laguz part of him. I guess. Hm.

Anywho. This is my first time writing an OC into a Fire Emblem fic, and I hope it goes OK. The thing is that I sort of had to add my own characters in order to flesh out the colony, and I'll probably be adding a few more OCs as the story goes along, mostly just passing characters. You have my word, my promise, that on whatever honour I possess, these OCs will never be used to deliberately show up the actual characters, or to pair with any of them, or any of that. If you notice any Sue-ish or Stu-ish (Google 'Mary Sue' if you don't know what I'm on about) tendencies among them, please point it out so that I can correct it immediately. I usually despise OCs in fanfiction as they're written badly, are author-inserts, or distract from the actual characters. And I would hate to be a hypocrite, so please make sure mine stay clear of all that jazz.

Having said this, Kaz is set to be a bit of a recurring character, so you have to watch him especially in case he turns Gary Stu on me. I need him for the dynamics. Other than him, it'll be mostly Stefan and Soren. Hoorah! And feel free to point out if I mis-write either of those characters, too. =3

I was originally going to write this as a oneshot, then realised it needed a lot of development. Eventually, I decided to run it as another serial, alongside Sellsword and Ellipsis. So, it'll most likely be...10 chapters? Maybe even more than that. But the chapters will be fairly short, I think. Around 700 words. If you have a problem with this, review, and I'll consider changing it. Maybe. Anyway, I've talked for long enough. Onto the story.

* * *

"We need more meat," Kaz grumbled in sync with his own stomach. "Fed up of snacking on bread and plants. Need some crunch in my diet." He was reprimanded with a short, sharp jab to the stomach. "Ouch! Hey! No need!"

"Every need, actually." The older man looked down at him in disdain. "If you want meat, you're welcome to hunt for it. We barely have the funding for our usual supplies."

Kaz screwed up his face. "You're a jerk, Stefan. Hunt for it…Tch. What am I, a laguz?" He flopped down onto the sand, hitting it with a soft flump and sending grains of it flying into his dark hair. "Who put you in charge, anyway?"

"In charge of supplies, or babysitting pups like you?" Stefan smiled wryly before turning back to the paperwork in his hand and rifling through it with a grimace. He was talking more to himself than to the youngster, but still attempted to keep up some sort of conversation. On a blisteringly hot day such as this, nearly everyone was sat in the shade or holed up underground. With so few of them out in the open, temporary and unexpected friendships were formed. Beggars couldn't be choosers, after all. There were other Branded closer to their respective ages, but most of them descendants of bird laguz. Stefan guessed that this was what had drawn the youngster towards him instead. It was strange how the tribes seemed to segregate them even now. "We might be able to cut down on the amount of wheat we have to purchase, depending on how many of our own crops survive the summer… but that won't nearly make up for the extra supplies we'll need with all the newcomers." He shot an irritated glance at Kaz, who pouted.

"Don't look at me like that. If you keep a colony of Branded isolated for long enough, they're gonna do it eventually. It's not like I'm the first, or the last. It's been, what, fifteen years? I'm not a newcomer. All the newborns, they're the problem." Kaz rolled over, resting his head against the dunes. "And quit calling me a pup."

Stefan leaned over and ruffled the youngster's hair. "Newborns don't eat as much as you."

"Hey, gerroff!" Kaz swatted at Stefan's arm with no real force, then sat and glowered at him for a while. He fiddled with the sand around him, scooping it into piles and tracing lines through it with a finger.

Eventually, even Stefan became irritable, shoving the paperwork to one side with a sigh. "Goodness knows how Soren ever did this," he muttered under his breath.

Kaz caught the comment. "That the mercenary?" He yawned. The scorching heat was making him tired. "You need to get a new claim to fame. You've been prattling on about Ike and the mercenaries since I can remember, prolly even before that."

"Mm," Stefan said noncommittally. "I can't even remember how long it's been, you know. Spending time with pups like you makes the time go so much more slowly." He smiled at Kaz's scowl. "Sorry, pup, it's a habit."

"You did that one on purpose!" Kaz scrambled from the sand, brushing it from his shorts and shaking his head to free it from his hair as well. "I'm going inside. It's too hot out here." He kicked at the sand with the toe of his boot. "See you later, maybe."

Stefan didn't bother watching the youngster go. In the growing colony, there were too many faces to remember and with most, he simply no longer bothered even trying. New acquaintances were made on a daily basis. What was the point in attempting the foolish task of memorising them all? Had he taken the effort to look up, however, he might have chanced upon the distant figure on the horizon, making its way ever closer to the heart of the desert. To their home.


	2. Chapter 2

OK, so I'm slightly nervous at how this story's being received, as I haven't had any reviews yet. Um. Yeah, as I said - nervous about my OCs. I need a name for the cat Branded who'll probably appear in the next chapter. Any suggestions will be considered.

I don't really have much to say, other than...review. Please?

EDIT: I've changed it. I knew I'd screw up somebody's backstory at some point. Sorry, Stefan! Thanks PPP SCC for pointing it out. =3 Much appreciated.

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"Stefan! Hey, wake up, old man!" Somebody took hold of his arm and shook it roughly. Upon opening his eyes, he realised that it was the youngster from before. Kaz grinned. "Can't believe you actually respond to 'old man'. C'mon, get up."

Perfectly awake now, Stefan realised that the sun was beginning to sink below the horizon. Already, the night chill was descending upon them. "You ought to have more respect for your elders," he scolded. "What appears to be the problem?"

"There's a man just arrived asking for you."

Stefan slowly clambered to his feet, brushing the dust from his coat. "One of us, I assume? Very well. Did you take him inside?"

Kaz shook his head. "Nope. He's behind you."

Fighting the urge to clap the boy on the back of his head for such idiocy, Stefan turned around to face the newcomer. His eyes widened, but there was otherwise no suggestion of surprise at seeing this particular person. "My, you've…grown."

The young man was dressed in a tattered travelling cloak, but where it had torn through, Stefan could see the hint of ornate robes underneath. The hood was down, exposing the prominent red mark on his forehead, and the unspeakable sadness written across his face. He said nothing.

"Truthfully, I didn't expect to see you again, Soren. Not that you are unwelcome here. Did you find Hatary in the end?" Soren nodded mutely. Nothing more needed to be said. It would be pointless asking why Soren had left because, for him to be travelling alone, there could only have been one answer. "How long ago?" he asked instead.

"A month or so." Soren's voice was quiet, almost inaudible. He drew his cloak closer around him, and Stefan tentatively put a hand on his shoulder.

"What're you two on about?" Kaz asked, frowning. "You're not making any sense."

Soren looked at him, though more in disdain than in anger, before glancing back at Stefan. "Is he yours?" His voice was still incredibly quiet.

"Heavens, no," Stefan laughed. "His parents are inside. I was just watching over him earlier, that's all." He paused. "Generally speaking, everyone looks after everyone here. It started off that way because most of the youngsters that came here were orphans, or near enough. But even now that families have started cropping up within the colony, the children are rarely ever raised by their parents alone."

Soren nodded. "That sounds...pleasant."

"Most find it so." Stefan regarded his friend with caution. "More pleasant than either of our childhoods, I would hazard, at the very least. Though there is something to be said for being raised by your own parents, in most cases."

"Your parents raised you?" Soren seemed particularly surprised by this information.

"Mm....Not that I wasn't still looked upon as cursed." He sighed. "My mother was incredibly apt at hiding her own mark, and I don't believe my father was intelligent enough to ever make the connection. He merely assumed that I was the one who had done something wrong, in order to be Branded. I ran away when I was about ten, fed up of being continually blamed for everything that ever went wrong. My mother never spoke a single word in my favour, afraid it might uncover her own secret."

Soren had no response to this. After several lapsed moments of silence, Stefan spoke up again. "I don't suppose you have any more wish to see your parents than I do mine."

"...No. I could probably track them down if I were particularly bothered. The laguz parent is probably still alive. I could ask Kurth to help if needed." There was a briskness to his voice that told Stefan very clearly that searching for his remaining parent was the last thing he would do. "But as I said, I've no particular wish to see the mother that abandoned me."

Stefan looked at him curiously. "You never gave me the impression that you knew which was your laguz parent."

"I didn't, previously. I've been thinking a lot of things over lately." The sadness re-entered his voice.

Kaz frowned at the stranger. "Hey, Soren. You the mercenary guy Stefan always natters on about?"

"You...talk about me?" Soren looked at Stefan in surprise.

"On occasion."

"All the time!" Kaz interrupted. "Hey, what happened to the man you were travelling with? The hero guy. Ike. What happened to him?"

Soren's eyes glazed over. "He grew old."

"As old as Stefan?"

"No, not that old," Stefan said, not giving Soren the chance to reply. "Ike was a beorc. They don't live as long as we do."

"Oh." Kaz pondered this for a moment. "So why were you with him?" He looked up at Soren in curiosity.

"Because he wasn't just a beorc," Soren replied. "He was Ike." His voice caught in his throat as he said his friend's name, and Stefan placed his hand on Soren's arm.

"Come on. Let's get you inside. You must have had a long journey. You ought to rest for a while." Soren merely nodded and let himself be led away.


	3. Chapter 3

**Well now. I expect there will only be a handful, if indeed there are any people reading this. That's okay. I'm grateful for each and every one of you. **

**Where have I been? I've been off gallavanting around cons, drawing art, writing original fic, and doing exams. Isn't life fun? I also spent a long time in the Torchwood fandom, but I've been a bit disheartened with it since Christmas, and since my new copy of FE7 arrived in the post last week, I've subsequently replayed that and begun replaying Path of Radiance. Hence, I've fallen in love with the characters and the fandom all over again, and should be staying for a while. **

**I haven't written fanfiction in months, so I might be a little out of practice - please tell me if I do anything wrong. In the meantime, I hope you enjoy this update. I might even write something for Sellsword or Ellipsis if I can get back into the swing of things. Or would you prefer some support conversations (like The Stench of Iron)? Or just some oneshots (like Clinging On/Duty/etc.)? They might be easier for me to write.**

**Please let me know what your thoughts are!**

* * *

Soren groaned a couple of times before finally murmuring his way back into the land of the living. Stefan smiled. He found watching his friend sleep calming, even if it didn't seem particularly peaceful to Soren himself. The mage had entangled himself in the sheets and nearly fallen from the bed at one point during the day. He was fighting the sheets off again now in an attempt to sit up.

"Sleep well?" Stefan asked.

Soren nodded, but said nothing. He didn't look like he particularly wanted to talk. That was too bad for him – Stefan had a few questions that didn't want to wait any longer. Still, he kept his tone soft at Soren's expression.

"You've been out like a light for nearly three days. You must have been exhausted."

Soren met his eye. "It's a long way here from the nearest town," he replied. Stefan watched him glance around, taking in his immediate surroundings. The room was one of the smaller ones in the colony. It barely had room for a bed and small table, let alone the chair that Stefan had squeezed in. But it had been short notice – no doubt a bigger room could be arranged later, when Soren had settled in.

"Where did you travel from?" Stefan kept his gaze firmly on Soren. He certainly hoped that his friend would stay – Ashera knew they could use some help organising the place – but it wasn't something he could rely on. Soren might have travelled all this way because he had nowhere else to go, but that didn't necessarily mean that he would stay. He might simply choose to wander, as he had done with Ike. "Did you find Hatari in the end?"

"Yes. It's quite a way from here."

Stefan paused, unsure whether it was wise to press any further. Soren didn't seem to mind the turn of the conversation, but nor was he enthusiastic. Quite the opposite. The young man – could he be called that? He didn't look even twice the age he had when Stefan had seen him last, but he was far past old by beorc standards – was staring at the nearest wall, lost in thoughts of his own. Stefan had no desire to pry, but he had always wondered about Hatari. Whether remaining with the colony in the desert had been the right thing to do, instead of accompanying Queen Nailah.

Soren turned to gaze down at his own lap before adding, "It was as perfect as I expected it to be."

"I see." Stefan frowned. Judging by Soren's expression, it was clear that Hatari had been too good to be true after all. A land where beorc, laguz and Branded lived together might not be impossible, but they certainly weren't there yet.

"I didn't expect it to be perfect." Soren let out a small sigh. "Which was perhaps the problem. I was basing my expectations on our world, when theirs is...very different."

Stefan leaned a little closer. "How do you mean?"

"They aren't Branded, there." Soren met his gaze. "Not as we know it. They're welcomed."

"How is it that you even make that sound like a bad thing, Soren?" Stefan asked, with the hint of a smile.

Soren shook his head, sighing again. "It would be difficult to properly explain. However, the races in Hatari seem to...blend together somewhat. I found it disconcerting."

At that, Stefan did smile. "Perhaps, deep down, you actually enjoy being one of the Branded," he suggested. "After all, it gives you an identity of some sort. Seeing Branded that don't treat it as their identity... I can see why that might have been a culture shock."

"It wasn't that. It was...as though none of them had an identity. There were names and faces, but none of them seemed to know who they were, no matter which race they belonged to."

Stefan quirked an eyebrow. "For somebody who spent a great deal of his life disregarding his heritage and cursing his parents, you seem to have come a long way."

"As I said. It's a long way here from the nearest town."

"Yes, we're having trouble with supplies for just that reason. It's difficult to find towns willing to trade with us, and the few that are lie quite some distance away. Extending the tunnels so far would be an inconvenience, to say the least. Still, unless another option presents itself..." He trailed off.

Soren looked up at the roof of the small room. "All this is built underground?"

Stefan nodded with a smile. He was allowed to be proud of their accomplishments, was he not? "The main structure's made from rock and clay, but some of the older passageways are wood. Sand can slip through the cracks sometimes, so watch yourself."

Soren swung his legs over to the side of the bed and let his feet hang over the edge. "Is it very big?"

"Not big enough. The passageways can be a bit of a maze, because they were built at different times, but there isn't much physical living space." He didn't bother to mention just how crowded they were nowadays. The last thing he needed was to make his friend feel guilty. "I could show you around, if you wish. Are you well enough to walk?"

"I'm as capable as ever. I was tired, Stefan, not injured." There was a familiar resigned tone to his voice. "Do you treat the others here like children, or is it just me?"

Noticing the irritation in his voice, Stefan opened his mouth to apologise. When he glanced over, however, he found his friend smiling. "Soren?"

"It's nothing," Soren assured him, pulling on the pair of boots that had been left by the bedside. They were scuffed around the edges, no doubt from constant travelling – there were stitches along the heel where the leatherwork had been repaired. Stefan wondered how long ago his sandals had finally been discarded. He must have outgrown them by now, although another pair might be necessary. Boots were hardly suitable for desert weather. Nor was the dark tunic that Soren was slipping over his undergarments.

"You seem much more comfortable with yourself now," said Stefan. "If I'd known it would lead to this, I'd have let you go much more willingly."

"It was never a question of you letting me go, Stefan." Soren fixed him a stern look. "I was always going to stay with him to the end. I'd only have left if he'd asked."

"I know that. But I would have been less worried."

Soren stood up and brushed his clothing down to free it from the dust and dirt it had collected. "I'd hazard a guess that you have others to be worrying about here." He moved towards the door. "But it would be nice to be shown around, if you have the time. I take it you aren't the only one running things around here?"

Stefan smiled. He'd never been the only one – Fen, Glyph and Arah had been the main perpetrators from the beginning, with him and Luca acting as support. But others had joined as the colony had grown, leaving them with a somewhat jumbled ruling system. Still, they were making it work – for now. "There are probably about thirty of us that I'd call in charge, but I'm afraid I can't introduce you to most of them. We're missing a number of them to recon missions at the moment."

Soren regarded him with a strange expression. "Surely building more tunnels would be easier than trying to relocate the entire colony?"

It amused Stefan how quickly Soren's tactical skills had seen right through his words. "Perhaps, but it might be worth it in the long run. We're almost constantly repairing at least one corridor. The place has been slowly falling apart for quite some time." He held the door open to let Soren pass through. "Besides, it might make trading a lot easier."

Soren waited for the door to close behind both of them before he fixed Stefan with dangerous neutrality. "I'd hoped for some honesty here, at least. What is it that you're actually worried about?"

Stefan regarded him for a moment. They might both have been older, perhaps even wiser, but not much had changed at all in the decades that had passed. Soren was still a brilliant tactician, and he still needed that. "I'm worried," he said softly, "about war breaking out."

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**Reviews are loved, and rewarded with delicious virtual cookies. **


	4. Chapter 4

**Long overdue update is long overdue. Sorry. **

**Thus begins the flooding of this fic with OCs, who I hope will develop throughout the course of the story. I have six of them planned so far. You've already met one, so here are another two. **

**I hope you enjoy the chapter. And again, sorry about the lengthy wait between updates.**

* * *

It was past noon, and Soren still hadn't appeared outside his room. Stefan wasn't worried – it often took more than a day to recover after travelling long distances, and goodness knew how far away Hatary actually was. Soren probably needed the rest, and he had other things to be doing anyway.

He wanted a letter sent, and he wanted a fast reply. Arah had been the one to suggest getting outside help, but Stefan wanted to keep this to himself. So far as he was concerned, he was sending a letter to an old acquaintance, not a separate nation. He'd written as much, just in case the recipient mistakenly thought it an official political matter. It was difficult to tell.

He knocked on the door and waited for an answer. It was several minutes before he got one.

Refka's hair was more of a knotted mess than usual, deep browns and reds curling into one another and out in all directions. His dark eyes were half-closed with tiredness, and he had one hand holding firm on the doorpost. Without it, Stefan was fairly sure the young man might have fallen over.

"Am I not allowed to be busy?" His voice was soft with an adolescent groan.

"I never said that."

"Your expression said that, Stefan." Refka told him, and took a step back to allow Stefan into the room.

It was a small room, but that was to be expected. It had been built for a child. Refka couldn't be called that anymore, but he'd had no desire to move to a larger room. Given how overcrowded the colony was getting, nobody had pressed the issue; they'd all been rather thankful.

"Sorry if I've been impatient. I just… This one's important."

Refka sighed. "Where do you want me to take it this time?"

"Gallia."

There was a pause. "I really wish you were the sort of man who might be joking." Refka hugged his arms to his chest and sat on the end of the bed – a bed that was getting far too small for him, Stefan noticed. Refka sighed again, heavier this time, and then bent over himself to pull a small box from under the bed. "I hope it's nothing heavy, over that distance."

"Oh, I don't hate you so much." Stefan smiled and produced the letter from inside his tunic. "See? Nice and light."

"Well, that's something." Relief was evident on Refka's face. He opened the box and pulled out a satchel which he began packing with clothing, expecting a long journey. "So whereabouts in Gallia, exactly? Are there some of ours there?"

Ours? Stefan bit back his irritation. He knew at once where Refka had gotten the terminology from, and he would be voicing concern as soon as they returned. "No. Actually, it's for one of the king's aides."

"What?" Refka's expression fell. "I don't want to speak to them, Stefan. I'm used to being here. I grew up here. I don't- I don't want to be treated like that."

"You honestly think I'd send you somewhere that you'd be less than safe?"

"But it's-"

"An old friend of mine," Stefan assured him. "Gallia's allied with a beorc nation, Refka. They don't hold prejudices like they used to."

"We aren't beorc." Something underlay his words, either contempt or desperation. All it did was reassure Stefan just how necessary it was that the letter reach Gallia.

"Refka. I'm asking a favour of you. Yes, you're a fast runner, but I'm asking because I trust you to deliver it safely as well as quickly." Stefan watched him carefully for several moments, but the young man didn't meet his eye. He was looking instead at the satchel now resting open in his lap, half-packed with clothes.

Stefan placed the letter on a nearby chair and moved towards the door. "If you left soon, you'd probably be back before Fen." He kept his voice just loud enough for Refka to hear him clearly, then exited, closing the door behind him.

He waited outside until he heard the inevitable creak of the bed and footsteps crossing the room. He wasn't expecting, however, the mutter audible through the door. "You are such a damn jerk." It made him smile.

Satisfied that the letter would be delivered in due time, Stefan headed back along the network of corridors towards the room that Soren was temporarily occupying. Perhaps he would be awake by now.

A voice stopped him before he reached the door. It wasn't Soren's.

"I thought you might lead me straight to your little friend if I gave you long enough."

Stefan turned. Glyph stood in front of him, sharp eyes and developed muscles inviting no arguments. Not that Stefan had ever paid much heed to such things. "I thought you were gone for at least another week."

"Fen wasn't feeling very well."

"Then surely you'd have been better off staying put until he was better, rather than trying to cross a desert." Irritation crept into Stefan's voice.

"He wasn't ill."

Stefan frowned. This place was hardly comforting enough to call home for the few who had grown up here. Fen might have been young when they had first located here, but Stefan doubted that was what had made him attached enough to become homesick. "How long have you been back?"

"Not long."

"It seems odd that the first thing you'd do is stalk me."

"I was curious about our new addition, that's all."

Stefan eyed the older man warily. "He's resting at the moment. You can meet him later."

"I have more authority here than you do, Lion. If I want to talk to him, you'll not stop me."

"You'll call me by my name, Glyph."

"Will I? And why's that? Seems to me you're trying to undermine my authority again, Stefan."

"You aren't the only one in charge. Does Arah know what sort of talk you've been spreading?"

Glyph gave him a wan smile. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Of course not." It was clear Stefan didn't mean it. "We'll be meeting when Arah and Luca get back, Glyph. In the meantime, try to keep your tongue to yourself." He inched closer to the door. "Oh, and stay away from Soren."

"What is it you're afraid I might tell him? Is he another one you've sold this place as paradise to?"

Stefan didn't waste words replying. He gave the door a quick tap with his knuckles as warning and then entered, shutting the door straight behind him. He hoped Glyph would be wise enough not to attempt following him.

"I don't believe the concept of paradise can be realised," Soren said, looking perfectly unfazed by the conversation he had apparently just overheard. "Who was that?"

He was sat on top of the bed, fully clothed and reading what appeared to be a magical tome of some sort, although he had looked up when Stefan had entered.

"I didn't know you were awake."

"Who was that?" Soren repeated, choosing not to respond to Stefan's pointless remark.

Stefan walked over and sat on the chair beside the bed, anticipating a lengthy conversation. Soren was curious by nature, and depending on the questions he asked, they could be there for quite some time. His first question was answered easily enough. "Glyph. He's one of the original Branded that helped set up the colony."

"You don't get along, I take it?"

"We disagree on certain matters."

Soren smiled. "I gathered as much."

"The sooner the others get back, the better. He wasn't supposed to be the first. I don't like him being here without Arah to keep him in check." Stefan paused. "It isn't my place to say who belongs here and who doesn't, though."

"So whose job is it?"

"It isn't anybody's job. We're supposed to open our doors to anybody who asks. Granted, there are boundaries, rules to be abided by, but generally speaking, anybody's welcome. That's how it was supposed to be."

"But?" Soren prompted. Evidently, he'd caught onto Stefan using the past tense.

"But we're a colony of Branded. Now, does that mean we should open our doors to all those with mixed blood, or only those with Brands? Are direct descendants equal to indirect descendants like me who don't even know where their Brands came from? And what about tribes? So many of the people here are segregating themselves, Soren. Is that natural? Should we have separate colonies for beast, bird and dragon Branded like the laguz do? We're getting big enough to warrant it. And then there are laguz and beorc who want to join the colony. Should we refuse them, and force some of the children to grow up without their parents? Some of the people here… They're afraid of the laguz and the beorc, and everything they represent. Others hate them, whether that hatred's founded or not. Is safety more important than family? Is it the other way around?"

"I hope you weren't expecting answers to all of those questions from me."

Stefan laughed, though it was short and broke off into something close to grief. "I wanted Hatary to be perfect, Soren. I wanted you to tell me they'd managed to make it work, because then I could believe that it was possible for us to do it as well." He shook his head. "I knew this wouldn't be easy. I never thought it would be. But I thought…I really thought it was _possible_."

Soren frowned at him. "What makes you think it isn't?' he asked, his tone sharp. "If the behaviour of one person can make you give up, Stefan, then we don't know each other anymore."

"It isn't just him. It's all of us. I can see us breaking apart."

"Then you have to do your best to hold everybody together until there's something more you can do."

"What if I don't realise I can do anything more until it's too late? What if I never can?"

"A solution will present itself," Soren said. "That's the way the world works."

"I hope the world works quickly." Both Glyph and Refka's words were echoing in his mind. "I'm not sure we've got that long."


	5. Chapter 5

**Been a long time since my last update, and I can't say I was expecting to give you another chapter any time soon, if I'm honest. Life ran away with me for a bit. You can thank a wonderful Stefan roleplayer that my Soren had the chance to thread with the other day for giving me a burst of inspiration, as well as the fact that I'm in France without much else to do (last year I wrote around 20,000 words during my week's stay here; this year will be less, but today's wordcount for Adjustment alone is 3,000). **

**I apologise, but I'm no longer entirely sure where I'm going with this fic. I had everything planned out, and then other characters came along and stole the show and I'm not quite sure what's happening. I have the next couple of chapters, but I probably won't post them until I have a better grip on something vaguely resembling a plot. Certain characters, such as Kaz, appear to have been sidelined. **

**The chapter POVs will probably be doing the rounds soon anyway, but it would be nice to have an idea of which characters are most popular. I'm aware not everybody has been introduced yet (I haven't even written anything with Arah so far, let alone posted it). Anyway. **

**Here is a Christmas update for you. Best wishes to any readers, wherever you are, and I hope you're all enjoying your holidays. **

* * *

It was another day before Soren was rested enough to wander outside of his room, and Stefan only heard about it after the fact. He had expected Soren to stay put, relying too much on his previous knowledge of the mage's introverted personality. The Soren he had known went so far as to openly deny his heritage. He might have opened up a little, but Stefan hadn't expected it to go so far as seeking out others of their kind.

Ordinarily, he would have been pleased with Soren's progress. Given the circumstances, however, he was far more worried about whom he might end up talking to.

Stefan scouted along the main corridors, hoping that Soren would have stayed away from the more ramshackle ones in ignorance of which ones needed repair. Searching for one person amongst them, however, was very much akin to finding a needle in a haystack. It was Refka, satchel slung across his shoulders, that Stefan came across first.

The young Branded's hair was in less of a state than the day before, though it remained tousled and utterly defiant of any attempt to make it go in a single direction. His face had been washed recently as well; the usual desert dust was absent from it. Stefan would have liked to think he had cleaned up to give a positive impression of Grann when delivering the letter to Gallia. He could guess otherwise by Refka's accusatory stare.

"You didn't tell me that Fen was back."

"I wasn't aware of it until yesterday afternoon - after we'd already parted ways," Stefan told him, watching carefully for any telltale body language.

Refka shifted uncomfortably, one hand clutching the satchel a little closer to him than normal. Stefan smiled. He hadn't told. "I suppose you still want me to go."

"It's an important letter. If you want to stay, I can ask somebody else."

"It'd be quicker to send it with me, though," said Refka. "Especially if you'd have to find another runner. He was...supposed to be gone another week. So I can bear that, especially if I'm needed. I'll go."

"Thank you."

Refka shrugged off Stefan's gratitude. "I already promised to help out Grann however I could, Stefan. I stand by that."

Stefan didn't ask who he'd made the promise to - it hadn't been him, and he doubted it had been Fen. Given the remaining options, it was probably more likely that it had been a promise to himself. All the same, it was good to know that at least some of the youngsters were growing up with a sense of allegiance.

"Anyway." Refka fingered the strap of his satchel. "I'll be off. Should I wait for a reply before returning?"

Stefan nodded. "It shouldn't take too long. If it does, then just come back as you are."

Refka nodded in reply, but something lingered in the silence between them. Stefan waited patiently for him to voice it. "Glyph doesn't know about this, does he?" It wasn't so much a question as a polite request for the truth. Stefan trusted him enough.

"No, he doesn't."

"I thought not. I haven't told Fen."

Stefan had known that already, but he smiled nonetheless. "You have my thanks, Refka."

"I told you before. I promised to do what I could to help Grann." He paused to draw breath, as though psyching himself up to leave, but the gap wasn't long enough to allow Stefan to ask anything more. "I'll see you whenever, I guess."

They exchanged some wordless goodbye with expressions and hand gestures that didn't need physical contact before passing each other by once more. Stefan wondered if that would always be the norm for their society. Most other areas were showing improvement. Even the older Branded who had spent the majority of their lives outside the colony were opening up to each other, conversing and sharing experiences. The younger ones who had grown up in safety happily played rough and tumble with each other, acting like the kids they were. But physical contact with adults was off-limits by some unspoken rule. He'd noticed that the children stopped touching each other after a certain age, as well.

With Refka dealt with, Stefan continued searching the corridors for Soren. He eventually found the mage in conversation with a similarly dark-haired young man. Stefan caught up to the two of them fairly quickly, without making it obvious that he was attempting to salvage the situation. "Good morning, Fen. Soren." He nodded at both of them.

Fen smiled up at him, eyes half-closed in his usual way. Stefan had only seen them widen properly once, when he had been introduced to Refka. "Good morning, Stefan. Any word from Luca yet? Or Arah?"

"No, I suspect they've been delayed." He knew more than that, but he wouldn't tell Fen. Not because the young man wasn't trustworthy, but because he was too close to Glyph for Stefan's comfort. It was to be expected. Glyph and Arah had effectively set up the colony in order to protect Fen. He looked upon them both as parents. It was no wonder he looked so disappointed that Arah hadn't yet returned.

"Glyph said he wants to call a meeting when they're back. I don't know if he told you or not."

Stefan didn't bother to point out that it had been him to suggest the idea of a meeting. It would likely just be the four of them, getting matters settled amongst themselves. There was no need to get the other leaders involved. Possibly Fen would join them if Refka didn't return by then. Or possibly he wouldn't. He appeared just as fascinated with Soren. Stefan couldn't say that he was surprised.

"Tell him I'll attend so long as he tells me the time and place." Stefan smiled. Fen took the cue to leave.

"I'll do that." He returned Stefan's smile and offered one to Soren as well. "It was nice meeting you. Perhaps we can chat again later." His gaze lingered on Soren's Brand for another moment before he turned away down the corridor.

Soren was smiling when Stefan looked back over. "He's an interesting one."

"I'm sure he thinks the same of you. He'll be asking if he can sketch your Brand soon enough. All in the name of research, of course. You're likely to be the only dragon Branded he ever meets." Soren looked a little uncomfortable at that, and Stefan changed the subject. "How are you finding things here?"

"I'm...beginning to see what you meant about the tribes segregating. I can't always tell what laguz blood they have, but they seem to cluster. I'm not sure it's unnatural. They just seem to gravitate towards others of their kind."

"We're all of the same kind, Soren. The Branded are a race themselves."

"A race not created by the goddess," Soren pointed out. "So the boundaries of the definition are rather fluid. Besides, don't beorc do the same thing within their kingdoms? After the war, you wouldn't catch people from Daein with those from Crimea. The laguz have their separate nations as well."

Soren was actually siding with Glyph over this? Stefan's forehead creased into a frown. "If we separate the Branded into tribes, what will happen to those with friends or family outside of their tribe? What about those born of more than one tribe? Will they become the new ones who don't belong?"

"I've already told you that I don't have all the answers, Stefan." Soren's voice returned to something of his old tone - cold and angry and hurt. "You asked me for my opinion, and I gave it. I don't understand your concern."

Stefan closed his eyes. "My concern is that if we allow any divide to become prominent, it will spark prejudice and eventually a war. We're supposed to be Grann, Soren. A single colony, not several."

"Grann will be what they need it to be." Stefan opened his eyes to find Soren meeting them. "Isn't that enough?"

"I thought so, once." That was largely the problem. Over the past few decades, Grann had grown into a welcoming and thriving community, for the most part. They didn't need much else. It was the fact that some of them had decided they wanted more. Stefan shook his head to clear it. They needed Luca and Arah back before anything was decided. They could hold out that long, at least.

* * *

**For every review, I will give our flat block's resident cat, Chipie, a scratch behind the ear. It's the season of giving, after all. **


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